


Coming Home - Contributions

by jenniferjun1per



Series: Coming Home [1]
Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-10 10:38:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3287210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenniferjun1per/pseuds/jenniferjun1per
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When it comes down to it, Kristoff is a commoner, and Anna is a princess. What if the course of true love didn't run smoothly? This was actually a one-shot that turned into a series of contributions by some wonderful writers on tumblr. "Don't Look Back" was the original one-shot, and I wrote the Prelude some time after. It will make more sense to read them in this order though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Don’t Look Back

Kristoff hadn’t meant to look back. He had fully intended on passing through the castle gates, across the town square, and out of that godforsaken kingdom forever. He cursed himself for agreeing to do this delivery, having been able to stay away for as long as he had. But something tugged at his consciousness and he couldn’t stop it. The force was like a magnet, pulling him in the direction he was now staring.

Anna was in the middle of the town square, a group of people crowded around her. She was laughing, a good hearty, very Anna kind of laugh, and it made his heart ache. It had been three years since he had last seen her, after he had snuck out of the castle in the middle of the night like a coward, fleeing to the mountains after her devastating news to him.

I can’t marry you, she had said, between hitching sobs, her hands wringing.

Kristoff had taken her into his arms and rubbed her back gently, shushing softly into her hair.

Shhh, it’ll be okay, he had said, but didn’t mean it. It would not be okay, never be okay, but he didn’t want her to cry. He had known it would come to this, it had to, that was just the way of things, even though her sister was queen she still couldn’t change the laws.

He soothed her as best as he could that night, with soft kisses and caresses, with tender lovemaking and whispered admissions of love. When she was sufficiently calm and sleeping peacefully, he had gathered up his things and left.

Now, he was seeing her again, and the memories of that night came flooding back to him. The sweet smell of her hair, the feeling of her soft skin beneath him, the sound of her blissful moans in his ear. He touched a finger to his lips, almost feeling her on him, could taste her. It awakened feelings in him he hadn’t felt in years, hadn’t permitted himself to feel. He had buried those feelings long ago, although he would sometimes wake in the night, heart racing, eyes moist, her name on his lips.

She was standing before him now, and he was grateful for the distance and the large crowd obscuring him from view. She looked the same, still Anna, the same strawberry blonde hair. Except instead of her customary two braids it had been swept up into a tidy braided bun. He suddenly noticed other differences too, subtle ones that no one else would have noticed. Her posture was changed, ever so slightly. She stood taller, back straighter, more regal. More like her sister.

Kristoff hadn’t noticed before, but there were two children at her feet, seemingly the cause of her laughter. One was a boy, with shaggy blond hair, and the other was a girl, similar hair colour, but with a hint of red. They looked to be twins, and they were still very small, barely walking, but they were determined, reaching for something in Anna’s hand. She was teasing them, holding aloft some chocolate, just out of their reach, but she couldn’t hold out much longer and gave in, swooping them both in her arms.

Kristoff watched the scene unfold, heart clenching, stomach churning. This was a domestic scene he could never have with her, and the visual realization hit him full force. He bent over, feeling physically sick, fighting down the bile rising to his throat. Sven nudged him sadly with his antlers, as if to say, stop torturing yourself. Let’s get out of here.

Slowly, not wanting to tear himself away but realizing Sven was right, he turned and urged Sven on, pulling out of the square.

At that moment Anna looked up, and thought she saw the flash of blond hair and reindeer antlers at the edge of the crowd.

Could it be? She thought, but was interrupted by a woman who appeared at her side, curtseyed, and then picked up the two children at her feet and carried them away.

When she looked up again the crowd was dispersing, and there was no mountain man, no reindeer at all in her sight.


	2. Coming Home - a Prelude

He had forgotten. 

Two months had elapsed since he left Arendelle, and he had already forgotten. Forgotten how a soft bed felt like to lie in, how soft sheets felt on his skin. He had forgotten how rich chocolate tasted on his tongue, how wonderfully doughy the baker’s bread was. 

He had forgotten how to bow to dignitaries, how to address the staff. 

He had forgotten which fork was for salad, how to properly cut meat with a knife, and where to place his napkin when dining with the queen.

Try as he might, he couldn’t forget _her_. 

She remained in his thoughts, no matter how hard he tried to forget. 

A swing of his axe, and she would be on his mind. 

_Anna_. 

A furious swipe of his sweaty brow, and she would be in his thoughts. 

_Anna_. 

Watching the flames of the camp-fire leaping and dancing in the night air, and he would see her in his mind’s eye. 

_Anna_.

* * *

  

A year had passed, and he had forgotten the path. He had refused any more deliveries to Arendelle, and had now forgotten the way back. 

He had forgotten what the castle looked like, what was painted on the doors, what the floors were made of. 

He had forgotten what his footman’s name was, what the captain of the guard’s name was, which door he was supposed to deliver the ice through. 

He could still, however, remember the curve of her chin. The tiny freckles that dusted her nose. The softness of her skin under his calloused hands. 

He could still remember the shine in her eyes when she would greet him after a harvesting trip. 

He tried to forget.

* * *

  

It would be almost three years now, and he had almost forgotten a place called Arendelle existed. When he would hear the other harvesters mention it, it seemed like a fairy tale land. 

He had forgotten he ever lived in a castle, even for a short time. 

He had forgotten about a talking a snowman, an ice castle, a queen who had magical powers. 

He almost forgot about _her_. Almost. 

In his waking hours, as he worked, he could keep his mind off of thoughts of her. 

It was at night, as he lay alone in his tent under the stars, or in his cabin in the woods, where thoughts of her would assault his consciousness. 

It was as if he never left. He would close his eyes, and remember. 

He would remember the walks they would sometimes take, in the castle gardens, through the town square, along the docks. Anna would grab his hand and clasp it tightly in hers, and he would wonder if she could hear his heart pounding out of his chest. 

He would remember her laugh, loud and hearty, yet it reminded him of the tinkling of bells. He would tease her or say silly things, just so he could hear the sound of it. 

He would remember their quiet moments, sitting in the library, keeping Elsa company in her study. 

Worst of all, he could still remember their intimate moments. Shutting his eyes tighter, he could conjure up the image of her slender body, locked in his embrace. He could remember the softness of her lips, the taste of her tongue, the sound of her breath hitching as he caressed her. 

These were the moments that were seared into his brain, that he could never forget as long as he lived, as much as he wanted to. 

Distance and time were the only cures, he told himself, and so he lived his life, away from Arendelle, away from _her_. 

_Anna_. 

He could never forget her, but he sure would try.


	3. Family

Family - a Coming Home story

 

“UGH!!”

Beata slammed the door hard behind her, stalking into the middle of the room where she immediately started up a frenetic pacing. Her mother and father exchanged startled glances, before the young girl started talking in her customary rapid fire manner.

“Oh god! Why does this have to happen to me? Why do we have to be royalty? Why are there so many stupid rules!! I just want to do what I want! Why is that such a problem??” She wrung her hands as she paced, addressing no one in particular, but seemingly the room as a whole.

“Beata, honey, what is this about?” Anna asked gingerly, knowing her oldest daughter had a tendency to fly off the handle very easily.

“Mama,” Beata suddenly ran up to her mother, clutching her hands, “Will you _please_ talk to Aunt Elsa? Please?” Her blue eyes grew large and hopeful as she stared up at her mother. Anna looked sidelong at Kristoff, who sighed audibly.

“Let me guess,” Anna began, tilting her head at her daughter, “This is about Petter, hmm?”

“Aunt Elsa is being a grump! She won’t let him into the castle! She won’t let me see him! IT’S NOT FAIR!!” The young girl pouted, her bottom lip extending out so far it formed a little perch on her face.

“Now Beata, Aunt Elsa did not explicitly forbid Petter from entering the castle.”

“She said he’s not allowed in here unless he’s conducting business! And she knows he hasn’t set up his own business yet! She’s being so unfair! Papa was an ice harvester, I don’t understand why it’s so different with Petter.” She threw her hands up in exasperation, resuming her pacing.

Anna and Kristoff shared a pained look, their eyes conveying emotions that had been buried so many years ago. Kristoff couldn’t bear it much longer, looking away from Anna’s understanding gaze. Many years had passed, but he still carried with him a weight in his chest he couldn’t erase, no matter how many times his wife reassured him with tenderness and unconditional love. Anna took his hand in hers and squeezed, before she returned her attention to their daughter.

“Beata,” Anna called out to her, extending her hand, “There’s a story you need to hear.”

Beata turned, saw the seriousness in her mother’s face, and the grim stance of her father.

“Mama? Papa? What is it?” She hurried over, taking her mother’s hand and placing her other hand on her father’s shoulder. Kristoff smiled weakly, covering his daughter’s hand with his.

“There is a reason Aunt Elsa is being overprotective with you.” Anna began quietly, her blue eyes mirroring her daughter’s. “You are not the first princess to fall in love with an ice harvester.” She glanced over at her husband, who returned her look with eyes full of adoration.

“Yes I know, Mama. I know that Papa was once an ice harvester, but he gave it up when he married you and became a prince.” She recited the story as if she’d heard it a million times, rolling her eyes for good measure.

“That _is_ the story you were told, yes. But it’s not the complete truth.” Anna cleared her throat, nervously patting her daughter’s hand. Kristoff laid a hand on her shoulder, and the weight and warmth it provided gave her strength. Beata cocked her head at the two of them, confusion twisting her delicate features.

“I don’t understand.”

“Come and sit, love.” Anna moved to sit on the chaise, motioning for her daughter to join her. She marveled at who her daughter had become. Beata had been a quiet child, so stoic in the beginning they feared that she couldn’t talk. But Anna had refused to believe this, knowing that it was simply because her brother did all the talking, and she just let him. The quietness in her belied a strength and surety of purpose that was evident from very early on, and manifested itself as she entered her teen years. At eighteen years old, she was now the same age Anna was when a grumpy ice harvester entered her life and changed it forever. She saw the same fearlessness and pluck in her daughter that she had had in herself, and it both heartened and unnerved her.

“Now Beata, the story I’m about to tell you hasn’t been known for many years. It’s been struck from the history books, and therefore from public knowledge.” Anna once again looked over at her husband, who had moved to face the window. His head was bowed, shoulders curved forward. “Not to say that it was anything to be ashamed of.” She caught his eye and gave him a radiant smile, and the smile he returned was full of gratitude.

Anna recounted a story of true love: a love that was lost due to protocol, but regained three years later unexpectedly. Beata listened with rapt attention, never once taking her eyes off of her mother’s face. It was only when the story would mention her father that she would look over, and her intense blue eyes, just like her mother’s, would cause him to buckle slightly, his heart doing somersaults in his chest.

When Anna finished her story, Beata was silent for a long time, and Anna was instantly transported back to Beata’s childhood. Her heart ached for what her daughter must have been feeling, and part of her regretted telling her the truth. Beata’s hands were folded in her lap, and Anna gently placed her hand on top of her daughter’s.

“Bea, honey, I know it’s a lot to take in. We never felt the need to tell you, but now, with what’s happening with Petter, it’s important that you know what’s behind Aunt Elsa’s concern.”

Beata lifted her head slowly, turning her gaze towards her father. Her blue eyes pierced him to the core.

“Papa?” Her voice was low, but sure.

“Yes, Bea?”

“Did you love Mama?”

“With all my heart.”

A pause. Her voice was stronger now, louder.

“Did you love me and my brother?”

He crossed the room to her in a split second, kneeling at her feet and gathering up her tiny hands in his.

“Beata, when I found out about you and your brother, I didn’t know if my heart could take it. I felt love with your mother, and with the two of you it just filled my heart until I thought it would burst.” He squeezed her hands, his eyes misting over, “And what I did… leaving your mother… when she was pregnant with you…” A sob escaped his lips, and Anna immediately laid a hand on his shoulder, “I’m so sorry, Beata, I’m so sorry.” He hung his head, blond locks falling forward. Anna moved to stand behind him, laying both her hands on his shoulders. Her face was drawn, but the pain reflected in her eyes was not for herself, but for her husband, and for the daughter before her.

“Mama,” Beata looked to her mother now, “have you forgiven Papa?”

“Long ago, honey. I understood why he did what he did. Truthfully, those three years were difficult, but we got through them. When your father came back he gave all of himself to you and your brother, and to me of course, and then eventually to your sister. He has been the best father to you three that I could ever have hoped for.” Anna squeezed her husband’s shoulders, and placing his hands over hers he squeezed back appreciatively.

Beata nodded her head, her brow furrowed. Her bright blue eyes had a faraway look in them as she processed what she just heard.

“In my memory you were always there, Papa. I don’t ever remember you being away.” Realization began to dawn on her features. “Is that why you gave up ice harvesting? It wasn’t because Aunt Elsa wouldn’t let you, it’s because you wanted… to be with us?”

Kristoff nodded slowly, smiling fondly at his eldest daughter.

“I couldn’t bear to be away anymore, to miss anything. I’d already missed so much of you and your brother’s infancy. With Sunniva I felt like I had a second chance, and I certainly wasn’t going to miss anything again.”

Beata sat for a moment, her head bowed, her hands still folded in her lap. She hadn’t inherited her mother’s nervous tics or anxious habits, instead she had her father’s reserve and subdued nature. Through the years this had often thrown Anna into a panic, as she could never tell what Beata was thinking or feeling. Kristoff would always have to reassure her, since Beata was so much like him, he understood.

“We’re a family.” She finally broke the silence, lifting her head and fixing both her parents with a profound look. Anna’s heart welled up with pride, and her hand instinctively went to her chest as if to calm it. Kristoff stood by his wife, slipping an arm around her waist. Anna peeked up at him, his face radiating contentment.

\---

Elsa sat at her desk, trying to rub the knots forming at the base of her neck. The lamplight sputtered, threatening to go out completely, eliciting a loud sigh from the weary queen. She sat back in her chair, prepared to call it a night, when there was a soft knock on her study door.

“Enter.” She expected Kai, to remind her of something she had forgotten to do that day, or Gerda gently reprimanding her for staying up so late. She stood, arranging her papers on her desk, not yet looking up, when a soft voice she wasn’t expecting interrupted her tidying.

“Aunt Elsa?” Beata stood at the open door with her hands clasped in front of her.

“Oh! Bea, honey, I wasn’t expecting you.” Elsa’s heart lightened at the sight of her eldest niece. In appearance, she reminded her so much of Anna - her reddish gold hair plaited in two braids, light freckles dusting her cheeks, bright blue eyes that danced in the light. She possessed none of the energy that so exemplified Anna, however, in standing so proper and still she was all her father.

“May I speak with you?” Beata asked softly.

“Of course! Come and sit.” Elsa moved to the sofa and motioned for Beata to join her. Instead Beata rushed over to her aunt and sat at her feet, gathering her aunt’s hands in hers.

“Aunt Elsa, please forgive me for boorish behavior earlier today.” She looked up at her aunt pleadingly.

“Oh Beata, please, there is nothing to forgive-”

“Yes there is! The way I acted was disrespectful, and I’m sorry.”

“Alright then. I accept your apology.” Elsa smiled fondly at her niece, “What brought this on?”

Beata paused briefly before regarding her aunt thoughtfully.

“I had a conversation with Mama and Papa tonight. About what happened when Mama was pregnant with us. When Papa left.”

Elsa felt a stabbing pain in her chest, something she hadn’t felt in a long time. A chill filled the room, but dissipated almost instantly, as she had learned to control her powers after all these years. Reliving that experience was certainly not something she ever wanted to do again, but she had to admit, her niece falling for an ice harvester brought those horrible memories back.

“I see.” Elsa replied, her lips a tight line. “That was… a very _trying_ time for your mother.”

“And for you, I’m sure. She was lucky to have you, to have your love and support, to have her best interests in your heart. And when Papa came back, you could have banished him for what he did, but you didn’t. You let him come home.”

Elsa smiled, tilting her head at her niece, silently impressed at the wisdom she showed beyond her years.

“I just wanted to thank you, Aunt Elsa. For taking care of Mama, for taking care of me, and my brother, of Papa too, and of course my little sister. Thank you for taking care of my family.”

Elsa felt her chest contract, tears swimming in her vision, as her heart was touched by the words of her niece. Memories flitted in her mind; a chubby baby with downy hair, awkward first steps on tiny feet, shy but eager on her first day of lessons, strong-willed and sure as she blossomed into a young girl. Elsa felt proud, proud of her sister for raising such a child, and even begrudgingly acknowledged that her brother-in-law had had a hand in it too. And a small part of her felt proud of herself, for being able to partake in this remarkable girl’s life.

Elsa reached out and wrapped her arms around her niece’s shoulders, pulling her in for a tight hug.

“I love you, Aunt Elsa. Thank you for always looking out for me.”

“Always, my sweet girl. Always.”


End file.
